Gerald Ford, Neil Armstrong, Michael Bloomberg, and Frank Parater hold one common link—all four men have earned the rank of Eagle Scout. Over the past century, Eagle Scouts have earned a reputation for service, virtue, and leadership that is recognized worldwide. Attaining my Eagle Scout rank, however, almost never happened. When I was a fifth grader, a friend dared to be different and reached out to me. His act of charity inspired me to eventually earn my Eagle Scout and dare to be different through my leadership.
The experience began on a brisk, chilly June morning. I hurriedly ran to the waterfront at summer camp, for fear I would be late. Taking off my glasses, I arrived just in time for my Swimming merit badge class. Marking my attendance, the instructor told me to jump into the frigid, murky lake. I plunged in. The class continued. Just as it ended, I nonchalantly bounded over to the landing area to dry off. When I arrived there, I began searching for my glasses.
Feeling around, literally blind, I could not find my glasses. My heart sank. On only the second day away from my parents, I had lost my glasses. I panicked. How was I supposed to do all the cooking, washing, and overall camping of scouting without seeing? I asked the instructor if anyone had turned in a pair of glasses. Nothing. I somehow managed to find my way back to camp. There, I crawled into my tent-- embarrassed, homesick, scared, and overcome with emotion. My sightless eyes cried tears of despair. I no longer desired to be in scouts. Scouting took away my sight. Overhearing my uncontrollable sobs, the oldest scout in our troop came over to my tent and asked what seemed to be the problem.
DW Cashman, Senior Patrol Leader and future Eagle Scout of my Boy Scout troop, eventually coaxed me out my tent. Even more self-conscious that the oldest scout in the troop had caught me vulnerable, I explained to him, while huffing and puffing, about my missing glasses. He walked with me to the camp office to see if anyone had turned in a pair of glasses. Still nothing. On the hike back to our campsite, he reassured me that I would find my glasses and I would be just fine. Then, DW handed me something dense. I squinted at it hard before realizing what it was.
As I drank from the camp-contraband root beer bottle, I calmed down and began to loosen up. DW had reached out to me and treated me as a friend. His kindness and selfless giving restored my faith in Scouting. Throughout the week, he persistently checked up on me, making sure I was all right in spite of my sightlessness. Even though I never found my glasses, DW helped me to see—to see how a minor act of love in action could play a major role of inspiration. He is the reason I stayed in Scouting.
When I turned eighteen on December 1st, 2009, I finished my Scouting tenure with nearly 150 nights of camping, twenty-six merit badges, over two hundred hours of scouting service projects, surviving a week in the wilderness of Maine, canoeing over 150 miles in eight days on an Ohio River tributary, earning the rank of Eagle Scout, while holding both the second highest and highest leadership ranks in scouting, respectively—Assistant Senior Patrol Leader and Senior Patrol Leader. These accomplishments are enough to fill an impressive résumé. Ironically enough, the proudest and yet most humbling moments of mine will never show up on my Scouting résumé. These accomplishments would be futile without purpose; without meaning; without action—and ultimately without love.
During a November scout meeting, a young scout named Billy, upon hearing I was leaving due to scouting age restrictions, embraced me and nearly began to cry on my shirt. He said, “[J.A.], please don’t leave! Why do you have to? I don’t want you to leave. You are my friend.” That indescribable moment of humility poignantly touched my heart. “This is what scouting and life is all about,” I said to myself later that night. I had reached out and made a positive difference in Billy’s life—not by merely being a leader, but a friend. Mr. Oren Youngstein, my scoutmaster with over thirty years of scouting experience, told me at my last camp, “[J.A.], you know what makes you different than every other Senior Patrol Leader I’ve had? You care.”
Those two moments characterize the personal difference just one teenager can make. By daring to be different, scouting has defined my altruistic, charitable, and personal leadership. As President Jimmy Carter once said, “Eagle Scouts will inspire to become leaders in serving others.” Sometimes it takes losing your sight to see those around you who need a difference in their life. This is who I am and contributes to the person I will become. I would not have learned and lived this any other way.
The experience began on a brisk, chilly June morning. I hurriedly ran to the waterfront at summer camp, for fear I would be late. Taking off my glasses, I arrived just in time for my Swimming merit badge class. Marking my attendance, the instructor told me to jump into the frigid, murky lake. I plunged in. The class continued. Just as it ended, I nonchalantly bounded over to the landing area to dry off. When I arrived there, I began searching for my glasses.
Feeling around, literally blind, I could not find my glasses. My heart sank. On only the second day away from my parents, I had lost my glasses. I panicked. How was I supposed to do all the cooking, washing, and overall camping of scouting without seeing? I asked the instructor if anyone had turned in a pair of glasses. Nothing. I somehow managed to find my way back to camp. There, I crawled into my tent-- embarrassed, homesick, scared, and overcome with emotion. My sightless eyes cried tears of despair. I no longer desired to be in scouts. Scouting took away my sight. Overhearing my uncontrollable sobs, the oldest scout in our troop came over to my tent and asked what seemed to be the problem.
DW Cashman, Senior Patrol Leader and future Eagle Scout of my Boy Scout troop, eventually coaxed me out my tent. Even more self-conscious that the oldest scout in the troop had caught me vulnerable, I explained to him, while huffing and puffing, about my missing glasses. He walked with me to the camp office to see if anyone had turned in a pair of glasses. Still nothing. On the hike back to our campsite, he reassured me that I would find my glasses and I would be just fine. Then, DW handed me something dense. I squinted at it hard before realizing what it was.
As I drank from the camp-contraband root beer bottle, I calmed down and began to loosen up. DW had reached out to me and treated me as a friend. His kindness and selfless giving restored my faith in Scouting. Throughout the week, he persistently checked up on me, making sure I was all right in spite of my sightlessness. Even though I never found my glasses, DW helped me to see—to see how a minor act of love in action could play a major role of inspiration. He is the reason I stayed in Scouting.
When I turned eighteen on December 1st, 2009, I finished my Scouting tenure with nearly 150 nights of camping, twenty-six merit badges, over two hundred hours of scouting service projects, surviving a week in the wilderness of Maine, canoeing over 150 miles in eight days on an Ohio River tributary, earning the rank of Eagle Scout, while holding both the second highest and highest leadership ranks in scouting, respectively—Assistant Senior Patrol Leader and Senior Patrol Leader. These accomplishments are enough to fill an impressive résumé. Ironically enough, the proudest and yet most humbling moments of mine will never show up on my Scouting résumé. These accomplishments would be futile without purpose; without meaning; without action—and ultimately without love.
During a November scout meeting, a young scout named Billy, upon hearing I was leaving due to scouting age restrictions, embraced me and nearly began to cry on my shirt. He said, “[J.A.], please don’t leave! Why do you have to? I don’t want you to leave. You are my friend.” That indescribable moment of humility poignantly touched my heart. “This is what scouting and life is all about,” I said to myself later that night. I had reached out and made a positive difference in Billy’s life—not by merely being a leader, but a friend. Mr. Oren Youngstein, my scoutmaster with over thirty years of scouting experience, told me at my last camp, “[J.A.], you know what makes you different than every other Senior Patrol Leader I’ve had? You care.”
Those two moments characterize the personal difference just one teenager can make. By daring to be different, scouting has defined my altruistic, charitable, and personal leadership. As President Jimmy Carter once said, “Eagle Scouts will inspire to become leaders in serving others.” Sometimes it takes losing your sight to see those around you who need a difference in their life. This is who I am and contributes to the person I will become. I would not have learned and lived this any other way.
